One Broken Line
by Disasteriffic Kaz
Summary: Written for a Prompt: What happens when an anti-possession tattoo is damaged? Nothing good. Post 8x14 "Trial and Error" hurt!Sam caring!Dean to the rescue!Cas
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** One Broken Line

**Author:** Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info**: Written for a Prompt: What happens when an anti-possession tattoo is damaged? Nothing good. Post 8x14 "Trial and Error" hurt!Sam caring!Dean to the rescue!Cas

**Author's Note**: This was a fantastic request from Jenjoremy that caught my attention and suddenly had to be written. :D Her prompt was essentially for possessed Dean, Sam in the trunk and hurt, limp, tortured Sam. Heh heh heh This story is complete in 3 chapters.

**Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :**D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

_**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!__**  
**__**~Reviews are Love~**_

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**Chapter 1**

Sam leaned back in the grave against the earthen wall and wiped sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve. They were perhaps four feet down of the six they needed to dig to find the coffin of Steven Abernathy, late electrician and now spirit with a penchant for zapping his victims unconscious.

"You gonna stand there all damn day or keep digging?" Dean growled.

Sam raised a brow and got back to work. He didn't say anything, electing to keep his head down. His brother had been unusually touchy the last several days, even for Dean. Sam thought it was because of the first trial. He knew Dean was still bothered that Sam had ended up on the front line yet again, and he wasn't sure there was any other way he could reassure his brother that it was alright and convince him of that. Sam sighed and then grunted in surprise when Dean shoved him into the wall of the grave.

"Dude, what?" Sam asked in frustration.

"Dig faster, dammit. I do NOT wanna be here all night because your ass is slacking off." Dean snarled it angrily. "Or have you forgotten we've got more important things to do?"

"Jesus, Dean. Calm down." Sam rolled his eyes and tossed another shovelful of dirt out.

"Calm…right." Dean dropped his shovel and jumped his brother. "This song and dance just got old." He took a firm, biting hold of Sam's shoulders and shoved him.

Sam gasped in surprise as his brother slammed him back into the wall of the grave. "Dean! What the…get off!" He shoved at his brother's hands, not wanting to hurt him, but was quickly losing patience with being manhandled for God only knew what reason, having no idea what he had done to piss Dean off THIS time.

"A week, Sam." Dean gave him another slam into the grave. "Been on your ass for a damn week and I've got nothing to show for it. Not good enough."

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?" Sam stared and had only a moment to see the flicker of metal in the moonlight before he froze with the sharp edge of the demon killing knife suddenly pressed against his throat. Sam's annoyance was instantly replaced by fear as every alarm bell in his brain sounded at full volume. "Dean?" The only response was the blade being pressed further into his skin, and an icy cold smirk spreading over Dean's face.

Sam didn't even want to consider the possibility, but…"Christo." Sam watched as his brother's body twitched, his eyes suddenly filled with inky blackness and he realized just how much trouble he was really in. Horror dropped into his stomach like a weight, sucking the air out of him, while Dean smiled, blinking those awful eyes down at him.

"That's right, Sammy-boy." Dean chuckled and pushed harder, cutting a shallow slice and grinned at the small trickle of blood.

"Not possible." Sam protested, even with the truth of it staring him in the face. "You're…Dean's protected. The tattoo…"

"Only works if it's intact," Dean snorted and took one hand from Sam to tug down the neck of his shirt and bare the tattoo. "Bottom left corner. That hell hound that clawed him up? Got a lucky shot and just nicked the bottom." He laughed again when he saw Sam's eyes focus on the small cut through the black ink. "You know, considering just how important these things are for you two, you really don't check them all that often to make sure they're intact."

Sam's eyes were stuck on the smallest scratch in his brother's anti-possession charm. It was almost impossible to see it was so small, but it was enough. "Oh, God, Dean. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Sam breathed out, horrified that he'd missed it…that he hadn't realized, and his brother had been trapped for a week. He stared into the black eyes and hoped Dean could hear him. "Exorci…mmph!"

The thing that was not Dean slammed a hand over Sam's mouth and rolled his eyes. "Like that's gonna happen." His smile turned to a glare as he stared down the younger Winchester. "Here's how it's gonna go, Sammy. You're gonna keep your damn mouth shut, 'cause I promise you can't get an exorcism out faster than I can kill you…" He smiled dangerously and leaned closer. "…or kill your brother." He nodded when Sam's eyes widened fearfully and he saw the moment Sam acquiesced. "Good boy," he said and took his hand away.

"What do you want?" Sam asked softly. "Take me instead. I won't fight you if you just let Dean go. He doesn't deserve this." He meant it. His brother had suffered enough and Sam would willingly play host to the demon if it saved him, but Dean shook his head.

"Call me paranoid, but I'm willin' to bet whatever this trial's doing to you would probably stop me using you as a meat suit." Dean snorted.

That thought hadn't occurred to Sam and it surprised him. He believed the trials were in the process of purifying him in some way, and, if that were true, then a demon would be unable to survive inside him.

The demon continued, ""And even if it didn't, you think I'm dumb enough to risk crawling inside the guy who managed to take down Lucifer? We're still trying to figure out how you pulled THAT off."

Despite the situation, Sam actually rolled his eyes. "So what now? What do you want?"

"I want to know everything you know about these trials." Dean shrugged. "I've been all through your brother's head and clearly, you're the one doing all the research." He smirked. "We're gonna have a nice long chat, Sammy." His smirk became a grin when Sam scowled at his using that name again. Dean leaned back, grabbed his shoulder, and spun Sam into the wall. He had the knife back at his throat at the same moment, discouraging any attempt at fighting that he might be considering. "Hands behind your back. Now."

Sam felt the blade on his skin again and knew he had to free himself. If he could knock his brother out, he could exorcise the demon. He swallowed hard, shifted his arms as though complying, and rammed his elbow into his brother's stomach with a silent apology.

Dean grunted and the demon smiled, expecting it. He pulled the knife back and slammed the hilt into the back of Sam's head, letting the man slide into the open grave bonelessly. "Told you not to fight me." He put the knife in his jacket and took out the handcuffs he'd pocketed days ago. He'd been waiting for Sam to figure him out and it surprised him that he'd gotten away with his deception as long as he had. He quickly secured Sam's wrists behind his back, chuckling while Sam twisted groggily, not entirely conscious just yet. "This would have been a lot easier on me if you'd cooperated." He groaned and pulled up the deceptively heavy young man, rolling and pushing him out of the grave onto the dirt-covered grass beside it.

Sam blinked furiously as the pain in the back of his head began to ebb, and he tried to roll to his back. He groaned, finding his wrists cuffed. "Dammit," he said softly and hoped they both lived long enough for Dean to give him crap about being caught out so damn easily.

"Don't make me hurt you, Sammy." Dean grinned and stepped on the small of Sam's back, pressing his boot heel in until the man groaned in pain. "Well, more than I'm already going to anyway." He took his foot off and dragged Sam up, holding on to his arms so he didn't fall back down. "Move."

Sam stumbled and staggered across the graveyard toward the Impala with the demon holding his arm in a painful grip. He was trying desperately tried to think of a way to get them out of this. There had to be a way that didn't involve killing Dean because THAT was not even on the table. He'd failed his brother in every way possible while Dean was trapped in Purgatory, and it didn't matter to Sam that he hadn't known, that he'd thought Dean was dead and in Heaven. It only mattered that he'd been wrong, and, once again, Dean had suffered because of it.

"Still trying to figure out how to get me out of your brother without ganking him? Tough. You can't." Dean shoved Sam into the side of the Impala hard and leaned over with the keys to open the trunk. He pulled Sam around and roughly shoved him inside. "Don't screw with me, Winchester. You know what happens." Dean grabbed up one of the rags from the bottom of the trunk, took a bruising grip of Sam's jaw, and shoved it in his mouth. "Can't have you shouting out an exorcism from in here while I'm driving. Might actually have time to finish it before I could get to you." Dean gave him that evil smile again and reached in, unbuckling Sam's belt. He laughed when the younger man began to struggle furiously.

"Oh, shut up. I'm not gettin' fresh." Dean yanked the belt out harshly and rolled his eyes. He quickly looped it around Sam's head and pulled it tight so it held the gag in place with the leather visibly biting into his cheeks. He looped it around itself and stood back with a smile. "That oughta shut your ass up while I'm driving. Get comfy."

Sam shouted around the foul-tasting gag as the trunk slammed closed. He let his head drop back with a thump and a groan for the leather of his own damn belt biting painfully into his face. He closed his eyes and prayed to Castiel in the vain hope the angel would hear him and be able to find them. The angel was anything but reliable lately for reasons Sam couldn't begin to think of. He prayed anyway because it was all he had left.

Sam had nothing to do but hurt and think in the trunk. His whole body was one massive ache from being squeezed into the too-small space for his over-long frame, and it was becoming difficult to breathe. The trunk wasn't airtight, but Sam's bulk left little room for fresh air to collect. It was claustrophobic, and he spent more time and energy than he probably should have uselessly trying to kick the trunk open. Dean had personally reinforced it to hold the occasional demon, complete with a devil's trap spray-painted on the inside. He banged his knee painfully on the underside of the trunk and twisted his head, for a moment feeling the onset of panic as he couldn't take a deep enough breath through his nose. His own belt dug painfully into his skin, and he could feel the cuffs, which had been fastened cruelly tight, cutting into his wrists. Using the pain to ground himself, he managed to find calm after a minute. Freaking out wasn't going to do him or his brother any good.

He squirmed, moaning as his shoulders pulled painfully, until he was on his side. Sam worked to find room for one leg and had a go at kicking out one of the tail lights. Dean would kill him for it, and Sam sobbed a laugh into the gag hopelessly. In the end it didn't matter, since he couldn't get the proper leverage with his long legs anyway.

It scared Sam that the demon knew about the Men of Letters bunker now. They had been back once in the last week, and Sam remembered how Dean had vanished for hours at a time in a sudden fit of curiosity to explore the place. Even if Sam was able to exorcise the demon, that would only send it back to hell where that knowledge would quickly spread through the ranks. No; he had to find a way to get his hands on the knife to kill it and as quickly as he thought it, he discarded it. Using the knife would kill Dean as well and that wasn't an option.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only about 45 minutes, Sam felt the car slam to a stop, throwing him painfully against the unyielding metal. He heard the familiar squeak of the door opening, and could feel the car shift as the demon got out. Sam blinked furiously in the glare of a streetlight when the trunk opened and saw the wall of some large building beyond Dean.

"Set this place up days ago," Dean said conversationally as he grabbed Sam and hauled him out of the trunk letting him thump to the ground mercilessly. "Oops." He grinned and picked him back up. "I was gonna wait and see how long it took you to sniff me out, but frankly, I got bored. Here we go."

Sam tried to catch himself while Dean opened a door and shoved him through and staggered on legs wobbly from being bent in the trunk for so long. His shoulders burned with pain from the unnatural angle of his arms being secured behind him, and he was sure he could feel a trickle of blood on his face from the belt. He looked around warily as lights flickered on and balked when Dean shoved him toward a single chair in the large room. Behind it stood a table covered in blue cloth, and Sam knew there was nothing good hiding under that cloth.

"Move." Dean pushed him to the chair and forced him down into it. He made quick work of tying Sam to it with the restraints already in place and stood back to survey his handiwork with a smile and a nod. "You won't be getting out of those knots." He chuckled and tapped his head. "I've picked up a few pointers being in here. Your brother's got a talent for tying knots."

Sam closed his eyes and tried not to cry out in pain as his belt was suddenly yanked and pulled from his face. He felt skin tear and more blood seep down his cheeks and then the cloth was pulled from his mouth to let him finally take a good, deep breath and cough.

"Who…who the hell are you?" Sam asked finally as the demon in his brother's body knelt in front of him and smiled.

"A loyalist." Dean answered simply and raised a brow, waiting. He nodded and chuckled the moment he saw the realization on Sam's face.

"Lucifer." Sam said softly with a sinking feeling. "You were…loyal to Lucifer."

"Got it in one." Dean stood and threw his arms out. "But then YOU came along and shot the whole damn plan to hell…literally."

Sam grunted, seeing stars when Dean's fist connected suddenly with the side of his head.

"Would'a been a good time, Sammy!" Dean said angrily and then swallowed the temper back. "But, that's in the past, which has left me with a problem. You see…" He knelt in front of him again. "…hell has a new king, Crowley, that pathetic excuse for a crossroads demon." Dean spat on the floor and rolled his eyes. "Sadly, pathetic or not, he's in charge and I'm tired of running. That pretentious little asshole's been hunting down every loyalist he can find and killing us."

"Good," Sam said firmly and smiled at him. "I hope he nails every damn one of you."

Dean laughed and stood, going around behind Sam to the table. "Interesting choice of words. See, I need to bring something to the table, Sam. I need bargaining chips, and I'm pretty sure knowing the brothers Winchester are planning on slamming the gates of hell and how…" Dean chuckled. "…Oh, I think that'll get me off the most wanted list, don't you?"

Sam dropped his head and shook it. "I'm not telling you anything."

Dean flipped the cloth off the table and surveyed the array of small knives and tools he'd assembled with a smile. "Oh, I bet you do." He picked up three long, slender nails and a hammer, deciding to start small. "I bet you're singing for me inside of an hour."

Sam listened to his brother moving behind him and flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder. "Dean, if you're in there, if you can hear me, you can fight this. You can. I know you can." Sam's voice held a desperate intensity, hoping against hope that some of that would get through to where he knew his brother was trapped in his own mind. Sam's head went back on an agonized shout as something sharp punched down into the back of his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked over in disbelief as Dean showed him a hammer and then the sickening feeling of something being nailed into bone drove him to the edge of unconsciousness. He came back to himself with Dean holding his chin in a strong grip and smiling at him.

"No passing out, tiger." Dean laughed at Sam's angry glare, weak though it was. "Gotta give Dean some credit." He leaned back and hefted the hammer, showing Sam another long nail. "I actually felt him for a second there when I…nailed you." He chuckled at his own joke and placed the head of the next nail over the center of Sam's thigh. "He's pissed. Not strong enough to overpower me, sadly for you, but if it makes you feel any better, he's screaming right now. I think this is hurting him almost as much as it's hurting you." He brought the hammer down, driving the nail into Sam's leg and grinned again as the younger man howled and then gasped for breath.

"How many trials are there, Sam?" Dean asked and placed the next nail over the back of Sam's left hand on the arm of the chair. "You know this one's gonna hurt like a bitch. How many? Easy question I think I already know the answer to."

Sam steeled himself for the pain and shook his head. "Bite me."

"Wrong answer."

Sam screamed as the hammer forced the nail through the center of his hand, and then came the horrifying sensation of actually being nailed TO the chair. Every beat of his heart twitched the muscles in his hand and shot sparks of agony up his arm. "Shit!"

"Yep, that's gotta sting, little brother." Dean snorted and stood, going back to the table. He tossed the hammer down with a clatter and tried to decide what to use next. "I'm actually planning on making an effort not to maim you, you know. Not permanently, anyway." He chuckled. "Not saying I might not have to kill you, clearly, but assuming you tell me what I want, I'm perfectly happy leaving you and Dean up here to carry on with…whatever." He waved a hand airily.

"Wh…why?" Sam got out between clenched teeth and turned his head, trying to see his brother.

"Because you piss Crowley off." Dean said as if it should be obvious. "And that cracks me up." He took a slim-bladed, curved knife from the table and went back around where Sam could see him and tried a friendly smile. "See? You just tell me what I want, and I promise, you two idiots'll be riding off into the sunset in that hunk o' junk Dean calls a car in no time."

Sam's jaw dropped, even in his pain and he was startled into a laugh that made Dean frown. "Oh, man…he's gonna…Dean ever gets hold of you…death would be easier." He gasped to catch his breath and shook his head. "You insulted his baby. Wow." Logically, Sam knew things were bad. This was bad. He couldn't tell the demon anything and they were going to end up dead, but at that moment, he just couldn't stop laughing. It occurred to him that perhaps he was teetering on the edge of pain-induced hysteria but found it hard to care.

The demon scowled and tilted his head because he could feel an answering outrage in the back of his mind; Dean trying to fight his way to the front again, and there was insult layered over the Hunter's rage this time. "It's just a car."

"No. No, it's not." Sam said and stopped laughing abruptly. He remembered the day in Stull cemetery and the lucid moment that the Impala…the steel embodiment of his memories of a lifetime growing up in her with Dean…had saved the world. "You don't understand."

"Also don't care," the demon said and shrugged. He bent and used the small, sharp blade to cut Sam's shirts from him in pieces, not careful about nicking his skin and smiled each time Sam flinched. "I could leave these on, but then I might hit an artery without knowing it. Wouldn't want you bleeding out…not right away."

"Awesome," Sam groaned and shivered as the remnants of his shirts were torn roughly away to hang from his wrists or off the back of the chair. He decided he couldn't look at his hand without making it hurt worse. The sight of the nail pinning him to the chair was worse than the one in his thigh or the back of his shoulder.

"Huh. Probably should'a cut these off before I put this back here," Dean said, considering the nail in Sam's back that was hampering his effort to remove the man's shirts. He shrugged, took a pair of pliers from the table, and jerked the nail out of Sam's flesh with a grin for the agonized shout. He tore the remnants of cloth away and then hammered the nail back in with a laugh as Sam cried out.

Sam panted for breath and fought the black spots crawling across his vision. He was afraid of what he would wake up to if he passed out. He prayed for Castiel again, the words becoming a repeated mantra in his pain-dazed brain. Then, when he felt the small knife slicing slowly across the back of his shoulder, he screamed it. "CAS!"

Dean snorted and moved around front of Sam, watching him sob air in and out. "You think I wouldn't find a way to make sure your pet angel can't hear you? Dude…" he pulled a small bag out of his pocket and waved it in front of Sam. "…Got news for ya'. You boys have been off angel-boy's radar since I stepped in."

"God." Sam breathed and dropped his head in dismay while hopelessness washed over him and the demon laughed with his brother's voice.

"Now." Dean bit his bottom lip and carefully placed the point of the blade to the center of Sam's shoulder. "How many trials are there?"

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_To Be Continued… _


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** One Broken Line

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info**: Written for a Prompt: What happens when an anti-possession tattoo is damaged? Nothing good. Post 8x14 "Trial and Error" hurt!Sam caring!Dean to the rescue!Cas

**Author's Note**: One more chapter to go!

**Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678** :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

_**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!__**  
**__**~Reviews are Love~**_

_**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**_

"_Also don't care," the demon said and shrugged. He bent and used the small, sharp blade to cut Sam's shirts from him in pieces, not careful about nicking his skin and smiled each time Sam flinched. "I could leave these on, but then I might hit an artery without knowing it. Wouldn't want you bleeding out…not right away."_

"_Awesome," Sam groaned and shivered as the remnants of his shirts were torn roughly away to hang from his wrists or off the back of the chair. He decided he couldn't look at his hand without making it hurt worse. __T__he sight of the nail pinning him to the chair was worse than the one in his thigh or the back of his shoulder._

"_Huh. Probably should'a cut these off before I put this back here," Dean said, considering the nail in Sam's back that was hampering his effort to remove the man's shirts. He shrugged, took a pair of pliers from the table, and jerked the nail our of Sam's flesh with a grin for the agonized shout. He tore the remnants of cloth away and then hammered the nail back in with a laugh as Sam cried out._

_Sam panted for breath and fought the black spots crawling across his vision. He was afraid __of__ what he would wake up to if he passed out. He prayed for Castiel again, the words becoming a repeated mantra in his pain-dazed brain. Then, when he felt the small knife slicing __slowly__ across the back of his shoulder, he screamed it. "CAS!"_

_Dean snorted and moved around front of Sam, watching him sob air in and out. "You think I wouldn't find a way to make sure your pet angel can't hear you? Dude…" he pulled a small bag out of his pocket and waved it in front of Sam. "…Got news for ya'. You boys have been off angel-boy's radar since I stepped in."_

"_God." Sam breathed and dropped his head in dismay while hopelessness washed over him and the demon laughed with his brother's voice._

"_Now." Dean bit his bottom lip and carefully placed the point of the blade to the center of Sam's shoulder. "How many trials are there?"_

**Chapter 2**

"Ten."

"Wrong again."

Sam shouted hoarsely as the blade punched through his skin into the meat of his shoulder and was yanked back out. He looked miserably into his brother's green eyes and wished Dean was actually in them. "Dean."

"Nope." The demon smirked. "He ain't happy, by the way. Guy's got some serious anger management issues." He chuckled. "Some of it's aimed at you. Man, purgatory did not do nice things for big brother's mental stability."

"Shut up," Sam snarled angrily.

"Don't you want to hear everything? All the things he did while he was there?" The demon shook his head. "Crossed a few lines, dude."

"Stop. Just stop," Sam begged softly. He did want to know. He wanted Dean to trust him enough someday to tell him everything, but that was just it…he wanted Dean to tell him, not the demon son of a bitch playing ride-along in his head.

"Right. Right. More important things." Dean chuckled and shrugged, then spent the next several minutes with the knife carefully peeling an inch wide, four or five inch long strip of skin from Sam's left bicep. He smiled at every pain-filled scream and shouted curse and finally dangled the flap of skin in front of him while Sam shook with the agony. "Trials. Talk."

"Not…gonna…hap…happen," Sam gasped and risked a glance at his flayed bicep that made his stomach roll sickeningly and he swallowed hard at the long, bloody open wound. He had far too many memories in his head…too many centuries of memories in his head that involved the skin being flayed from his body a strip at a time to a fallen angel's maniacal laughter and his own never-ending, agonized screams, and it made him shudder even as it gave him strength. "You're not…not very g-good at this." Sam turned a smirk up at the demon inhabiting his brother. "Wanna trade places?" Sam raised his brows and snorted a weak laugh. "I can give you…give a few pointers. You know…for beginners. Trust me. I learned from a master."

The demon growled angrily and slammed Dean's fist into his brother's face, hard enough to send spots of blood flying from a broken lip. "Not havin' any trouble makin' you scream for me, Sam. And you got LOTS of skin left just waiting to be peeled off."

Sam spat a gob of blood to the side and gave him a red smile as he rolled his eyes. "Screaming and tal…talking. Two different things. Piss off." He grunted in pain as Dean's fist slammed into his face again and he felt something shift painfully under his eye. Sam had to fight to stay conscious as the next blow hit him in the throat and left him gasping and coughing, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer like this. He looked back up at his brother's furious eyes and finally saw it - just a flicker of his humanity. "Dea…Dean. Please." His voice was little more than a ragged whisper.

"You tryin' to make me kill you?" The demon raged. He stabbed the knife viciously down into Sam's right forearm, pinning his arm to the chair and then wrapped both hands around his throat to squeeze. He watched Sam's eyes blow wide and stare up at him desperately while his mouth opened in a silent plea for air he couldn't get. "You wanna die, you stupid son of a…"

Sam wheezed in a breath as Dean's hands went slack and his brother went to his knees in front of him. "No…no." Sam coughed and gagged and stared hopefully. "Wanted to…give Dean…d-distraction. Dean?"

"Can't," Dean's voice was the smallest of whispers and tight with rigidly controlled effort. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had just to hold the damn demon back for even a moment, and the grief and fury that was threatening to overwhelm him when he saw what he had been forced to inflict on Sam wasn't helping.

Sam's breath hitched in relief and a tear escaped down his cheek, but he knew they didn't have time for him to fall apart yet. "Phone. Dean, your phone." Sam tried to keep his voice calm for his brother's sake, breathing through the pain coursing through his entire body to try not to let it show in his voice. "Get out your phone. Call Cas." He waited, but Dean knelt frozen in front of him, a look of horror on his face. "Dean! Now!" Desperation gave him the strength to make it a command.

Dean was startled into movement by the order and marveled a little that his little brother was capable of sounding like that in spite of everything. He slowly inched a hand up into his jacket pocket while the demon railed inside him. He hunched when the creature slashed pain through him. "Exorcise?" he managed to ask softly.

Sam shook his head. "Can't…we can't. Knows too much. Call…call Cas. Please, Dean. Hurry." His strength was fading fast and they didn't have much time left.

Dean heard the mounting fear in his brother's voice as his nerveless fingers found his phone and pulled it out. The demon inside him raged all the harder and he shook as he flipped it open, nearly dropping it, but somehow managed to scroll down to Castiel's number and hit dial. But that was all he managed as the phone slipped from his fingers to the floor. "C…can't…Sammy…"

"It's ok." Sam heard the muffled sound of the angel's voice and nearly sobbed. "Cas! We need you! God…please tell me you can find us…" Sam had to stop and cough through his abused throat as the spots came back to dance in his vision. "Dean…he's possessed. We're in…" He gasped when Dean's fist slammed down to smash the phone, and his brother's eyes turned back up to meet his but this time there was nothing of Dean in them. They were solid black.

"Aww," The demon drawled with a vicious smile. "Too slow, Sammy." He leaned up and closed his hands around the young man's neck again, slowly squeezing and grinning as Sam choked, gasped, and fell silent. "You're really not gonna tell me anything, are you?" He squeezed more tightly still, watching as Sam's eyes started to roll up in his head and his body thrashed weakly. "No point in keeping you alive then, is there?" He leaned in again as Sam's eyes focused blearily on him. "Don't worry. I'll be sending big brother on right after you."

"I don't think so."

The demon gasped and spun at the sound of the voice, staring in shock at Castiel behind him. He raised a hand to throw the angel away from him only to shout in anger as the full force of his angelic wrath was turned on him, and the demon found himself turned and dragged backward, held in the grip of the angel's powers. He opened his mouth to escape, and Castiel's hand slammed over it, forcing him to remain inside his host in a fury.

"Cas," Sam's voice was a weak shadow of itself as he focused on the angel and his brother. "Found us."

"Dean once activated the…GPS on your phone." Castiel took in the sight before him and found he wanted to hurt the demon inside his friend because Sam should not look like that, that bloodied and broken, not ever.

"Never complain 'bout…overprotective crap…again," Sam groaned, feeling his throat tighten from the abuse it had taken and swallowed with difficulty.

"Sam, I can kill the demon inside him but…"

"Not without killing Dean." Sam nodded wearily. "Can't exorcise it. Asking 'bout the…the trials…to tell Crowley."

Castiel's face darkened as he held the struggling demon in his grip. "Then it cannot be allowed to return to hell. It has to die."

"Has to be a way to…to kill it without hurting Dean." Sam looked up fiercely and caught the angel's eyes. "Dean doesn't get hurt, even if we have to let it go."

Castiel nodded solemnly, seeing that Sam needed him to acknowledge that and frowned as the younger Winchester's head dropped to his chest. "Sam, you're not well."

Sam snorted, a little in disbelief. "S'alright…not as bad as it…crap…as it looks."

"Stop fighting," Castiel ordered the demon as Dean's body struggled suddenly in his grip. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't let Dean go, and Sam was in no condition to draw them a devil's trap even if Castiel could spare an arm to free him. He sorted through ideas while the demon fought his grip and Sam gasped for breath in front of them. When the idea came, he discarded it at once and then came right back around to it, and the more he thought about it, the more he knew there was little choice.

"Sam. I have an idea." Castiel waited for Sam's dark head to haltingly rise up and pain-glazed, hazel eyes to meet his. "You will not like it."

"Doesn't matter. If it…if it saves, Dean. I'll do it," Sam said firmly. "Tell me."

"You, Sam." Castiel said it softly. "You can pull the demon from him and kill it without harming your brother." He saw Sam's eyes go wide in sudden understanding and then in fear as he began to shake his head.

"No. No way, Cas. I can't…don't ask me. Please!" Sam said it desperately even as his traitorous mind informed him the angel was right and this was their only alternative to killing Dean and the demon at the same time. He dropped his head. "No." More tears slid down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. "He'll hate me for it, Cas…you know it. He will."

Castiel shook his own head. "No, Sam. He will not." He shifted his grip on Dean's arm, careful to keep his hand over his mouth and yanked the sleeve up. It was taking considerable effort and power on the angel's part to hold the demon immobile. He used a small thread of power to slice open the skin of Dean's forearm and took a firm hold of his wrist, holding it toward Sam's bowed head. "Sam…I am sorry. You must do this or we will lose him."

Sam's head rose against his own wishes as the smell of blood other than his own reached him - demon blood and worse…his brother's blood. There were days when it didn't matter how long it had been since he'd done this, tasted this…he wanted it. It was an addictive craving he wasn't sure would ever leave him completely, regardless of how much he loathed himself for it.

"Another way, Cas. Please," Sam asked in a small voice and tore his eyes from his brother's bleeding arm to look up into Castiel's blue eyes. "Cas?"

"You can do this, Sam," Castiel said firmly. "It's to save Dean's life and protect the trials. You must."

Sam's eyes fell once more on the blood now dripping onto his leg and he closed his eyes, resigned. "Dean…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He opened his mouth and a sob of self-hatred escaped him when Castiel pushed Dean's arm against him and the first taste of demon blood exploded on his tongue. It was both better and worse than he remembered, and for a moment, he simply let the demonic blood…Dean's blood…pool in his mouth as he fought the need and then he swallowed. It made him want to retch and spit. He'd fought so hard to never want this again and still a part of him shivered with pleasure. Sam fought the disgust and then the desire as he swallowed convulsively again and again and was left gasping when his brother's arm was pulled from his mouth.

"Sam…enough." Castiel watched the play of conflicting emotions over the younger man's face and suffered for him. He looked...tortured, and not because of his physical injuries. This new pain went far deeper.

Sam swallowed hard again and again, fighting the knee-jerk reaction to throw it all back up. "Hold…hold him."

Castiel nodded solemnly and said nothing. He knew how hard this was and how much worse it would become. Instead, he held tightly to Dean's now flailing body and pulled him a few steps away, all the while keeping his hand firmly place and using his power to hold the demon back as it attempted to escape.

Sam looked up at Dean, at the demon inside him, and focused that part of him he hadn't used in so very long on his brother. It was kind of like riding a bicycle. He'd forgotten nothing of how to do this, though he felt sluggish and it was more of an effort than he recalled to wrap his thoughts around the black thing inside Dean and hold it tight. It struggled and tried to slip through his grasp again and again, and Sam didn't realize how hard he was breathing or hear the grunts of effort escaping him until finally…he had it.

Castiel felt the moment Sam 'pulled' on the demon like a physical shock as Dean's body arched in his grasp, and he carefully pulled his hand away. He watched, transfixed as the black smoke poured from Dean's mouth, but, rather than fly out to escape, it sank down his body to curl and writhe on the floor between them and Sam. As the last puff of demonic vapor left him, Dean collapsed and Castiel grunted with the effort of keeping him standing. "Sam?"

Sam's eyes were on the demon as he focused all that energy like a laser to burn and rend. In his mind, he could hear the thing scream as he tore it apart and burned it into nothingness, and it never dawned on him that the scream he was hearing…was his own.

"Sam!" Castiel gasped as the younger Winchester threw his head back on a howl and went limp while the demon was destroyed. He put hasty fingers to Dean's forehead, and, sensing that the elder brother was in no apparent physical danger, he settled Dean carefully to the floor. Dean groaned softly, working his way back to consciousness, and Castiel left him to go to his brother.

"Oh, Sam," Castiel whispered as he took the man's head gently in his hands and lifted it. He was overcome with guilt for making him do this when he saw the fresh trickle of blood running from Sam's nose and down his chin. He took in the myriad wounds, felt Sam's left cheekbone move beneath his thumb and that was enough to make Sam's brows crinkle as he started to wake. "No. Stay asleep," Castiel said softly and sent a small thread of power into him, easing him gently back to full unconsciousness.

"Sammy?" Dean asked groggily as he woke. He rolled his head and then it rushed back to him…all of it. "Sam!" He shot up from the floor and slammed a hand to his head as pain screamed through it, and then his eyes fell on his brother and Castiel. Fear blew through him in a cold wave and then hatred for himself because he could remember every moment of it. Dean remembered every strike of his own hands on Sam's face, the feeling of pounding nails into his flesh and bone…of skinning a strip from his arm, Sam drinking his blood…and he rolled to his side suddenly to retch.

"Dean." Castiel went to him and knelt, putting an awkward hand on the man's shoulders to try and offer what comfort he could. "Sam will be fine."

Dean heaved for another minute and spit, gaining control of himself with difficulty. He pushed up and got to his knees. "Son of a bitch. Why?" He glared at the angel. "Why would you let him…"

"The alternative was your death," Castiel said simply and cut off the recrimination. "That is no alternative, I believe Sam would say."

"Dammit." Dean turned and knelt up beside his brother. His hand hovered over the nail pinning his left hand to the chair, looked at the knife driven through his right forearm and groaned. He had done that. He had done those things to the little brother he had practically raised and who he would still do anything to protect. He put a hand to the side of his neck and tried not to panic at the amount of blood covering him. "Sammy?"

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_To Be Continued… _


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** One Broken Line

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info**: Written for a Prompt: What happens when an anti-possession tattoo is damaged? Nothing good. Post 8x14 "Trial and Error" hurt!Sam caring!Dean to the rescue!Cas

**Author's Note**: Last Chapter! Hope you've all enjoyed the ride! I know I have! :P

**Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678** :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

_**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!__**  
**__**~Reviews are Love~**_

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"_Oh, Sam," Castiel whispered as he took the man's head gently in his hands and lifted it. He was overcome with guilt for making him do this when he saw the fresh trickle of blood running from Sam's nose and down his chin. He took in the myriad wounds, felt Sam's left cheekbone move beneath his thumb and that was enough to make Sam's brows crinkle as he started to wake. "No. Stay asleep," Castiel said softly and sent a small thread of power into him, easing him gently back to full unconsciousness._

"_Sammy?" Dean asked groggily as he woke. He rolled his head and then it rushed back to him…all of it. "Sam!" He shot up from the floor and slammed a hand to his head as pain screamed through it, and then his eyes fell on his brother and Castiel. Fear blew through him in a cold wave and then hatred for himself because he could remember every moment of it. Dean remembered every strike of his own hands on Sam's face, the feeling of pounding nails into his flesh and bone…of skinning a strip from his arm, Sam drinking his blood…and he rolled to his side suddenly to retch._

"_Dean." Castiel went to him and knelt, putting an awkward hand on the man's shoulders to try and offer what comfort he could. "Sam will be fine."_

_Dean heaved for another minute and spit, gaining control of himself with difficulty. He pushed up and got to his knees. "Son of a bitch. Why?" He glared at the angel. "Why would you let him…"_

"_The alternative was your death," Castiel said simply and cut off the recrimination. "That is no alternative, I believe Sam would say."_

"_Dammit." Dean turned and knelt up beside his brother. His hand hovered over the nail pinning his left hand to the chair, looked at the knife driven through his right forearm and groaned. He had done that. He had done those things to the little brother he had practically raised and who he would still do anything to protect. He put a hand to the side of his neck and tried not to panic at the amount of blood covering him. "Sammy?"_

**Chapter 3**

"I put him to sleep, Dean." Castiel moved around Sam's back and frowned. "I thought it would be easier on him while we…remove these. There is another nail back here."

"I know," Dean said miserably. "That son of a bitch made sure I could see everything..." He grimaced and took careful hold of the knife in Sam's arm. "…feel every damn thing he made me do. God, Sam." He clenched his teeth and pulled the blade out, trying not to think too hard about the slightly sickening squelch as it pulled free of the meat of Sam's arm. "You can heal him, right? Cas? Tell me you can heal this."

Castiel nodded at the desperate, vaguely panicked tone in Dean's voice. "Yes, Dean. The injuries I will heal, but…"

"He's still gotta detox on his own." Dean looked at the nail pinning Sam's hand. "Pliers. They're…they're on that damn table." His gut instinct was to start triaging injuries, stop what bleeding he could but in this instance he just had to wait. Castiel would heal the physical trauma once the foreign objects had been removed. Dean bent and started untying his brother's legs while the angel worked the nail out of the back of Sam's shoulder.

"Dean." Castiel handed the pliers over Sam's shoulder to him and then moved to carefully untie his right arm, fingers sliding slickly through the blood-soaked rope as he worked.

"This is my fault," Dean said softly with his eyes on the tattoo on Sam's chest. It was one of the places not covered in his blood and it stared at him like a condemnation. "I know better. I should have checked my tattoo."

Castiel put a hand to Dean's shoulder while the Hunter twisted the nail out of his brother's hand and fixed what he could. "It is whole again."

Dean felt a wave of warmth from the angels' hand rush to his chest and dissipate. He blew out a breath and threw the nail across the room with a wet clatter before he bent to remove the last one from Sam's thigh. "Too little, too late, Cas. I did this to him." He grabbed the end of the nail with the pliers and then looked up at Sam's soft moan. "Shit."

"Hurry, Dean." Castiel took Sam's face in his hands again, ready to heal him the moment the nail was removed.

Dean got a good grip on it and pulled the nail free in a rush of blood. Sam shouted awake and Dean watched the wounds he could see begin to close almost instantly with the angel's aid. Dean grabbed one of his brother's flailing arms. "Easy, Sammy. Take it easy!"

Sam sucked in a ragged breath, preparing to shout out with the pain again, and then, just as suddenly, he felt a familiar warm tingling flow through his body, concentrating in the areas of agony, and the pain was gone, leaving only a faint, lingering ache that was already fading. He stared into Castiel's eyes for just a moment and slammed his eyes closed on a sob of relief. "Cas." Sam panted weakly. "Thanks."

"You will be weak for a while yet, Sam," Cas informed him and leaned back with a frown, not quite meeting Dean's eyes. "The injuries are healed, but I was unable to completely mitigate the effects of the blood loss."

"Unable?" Dean pulled his brother's now healed hand free of the last of the ropes and turned a worried glare at him.

Cas opened his mouth but Sam beat him to it. "Demon blood. Right?" Sam looked up at him and the angel nodded.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled it angrily. He felt Sam's arm flinch in his grip and he shoved the anger down. Sam didn't deserve it; not this time. "This isn't your fault, Sam. You saved my ass. I wish…" Dean ran a hand through his hair and met his little brother's tormented eyes. "Shit, Sammy. I'm sorry."

Sam shook his head. "No. I should have checked your tattoo after the hell hound tore you up." He shuddered lightly at the memory because it was still too close, too near to being forced to watch Dean die in front of him. "I didn't think…I should have. I'm sorry."

Dean watched his face fall with guilt and shook his head. He pulled Sam forward into a hug, not caring that Castiel was there to see it, and just held onto him. Only Sam could find a reason to hate himself after being tortured by his own brother. "This isn't on you," he said softly and pushed Sam back, keeping a grip on his bare shoulders until Sam looked at him. "You kept your cool, dude. You could have lost it a dozen times and you didn't. You stayed calm, you…" Dean stopped and shook his head with a proud smile. "...you talked shit at the bastard while he was tearing you up. You got Cas here and you saved us, Sam. Hell, you wanna be technical about it, dude…you saved the world again."

"If the demon had returned to hell and told Crowley of you and the trials, you would likely both be dead already." Castiel said it firmly and hoped Sam would accept that it was the truth. "He had to be stopped or this was all for nothing."

"He was in my head, Sammy." Dean caught his brother's eyes again. "In the batcave. He knew about Kevin and Garth."

Sam nodded slowly and put a hand on his brother's shoulder while he shivered. "Ok. Ok. I get it, but…can I have your jacket, dude?" He pulled off a trembling smile that made his big brother chuckle.

"Yeah." Dean let him go and pulled his jacket off. He handed it to Sam, watching as he pulled it on with shaking hands. Sam was still too pale, and Dean didn't like that he was cold. Despite Cas's healing, shock could still be setting in after everything Sam had been through, not to mention the blood loss.

"Where?" Sam pulled the jacket closed around him and huddled gratefully into its warmth, finding comfort in the familiar smell of leather with a faint hint of gun oil – a smell that had always meant safety to him. "Where am I gonna…I mean, we don't have the panic room anymore." A large part of him was actually glad of that. He wasn't sure he had the strength of will to walk into that room knowing what was coming yet again. Sam wrapped his arms around himself and stood, needing to be out of the chair. "Sh…shit." He swayed with his head swimming and nodded his thanks as he was caught between his brother and the angel.

"It's only the blood loss," Castiel assured Dean as he saw the fearful expression on his face. "It will pass." He met Sam's eyes as they turned to him and felt the uncomfortable curl of guilt in his stomach again. "I'm sorry, Sam. I couldn't see any other way."

Sam nodded and carefully didn't meet the eyes of either man. "It's ok, Cas." But it wasn't. He understood it had been necessary, but he wasn't alright with it. Far from it. He could still taste the blood in his mouth, feel it churning sickly in his stomach, and he wanted away from that place. "Can we go now…wherever it is we're gonna go?"

"I must leave now." Castiel tilted his head, hearing something they couldn't. "I will…check on you later."

The angel was gone before Dean could open his mouth and he sighed as he slipped an arm around Sam's shoulders. "Come on. Let's get you outta here."

"Are you alright?" Sam asked softly. "That demon…it said it was controlling you for a week." He didn't want to imagine the things it could have gotten up to inside his brother and Sam's only consolation was that they hadn't spent that much time apart in the last week.

Dean shook his head and then nodded. "I'm fine, dude." He led his brother out of the warehouse and to the Impala silently while memories of the last week trapped in his own mind came to taunt him. He would never tell Sam how each time Sam fell asleep, the demon would stand over him with a knife, debating whether to kill him and would taunt Dean with graphic images of the things it would do to his little brother.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked wearily as he dropped into the passenger seat of the Impala.

"Batcave." Dean shrugged and knelt in the door. "Should be able to, you know, keep you on lockdown safe enough there. How you feelin'?"

Sam knew what he was asking and nodded. "It's coming." Thanks to Castiel, he'd drunk just enough of Dean's blood to kill the thing inside him and the rush of power from it was nearly gone. He could feel the first twinges of withdrawal, sensations he'd hoped to never feel again and he shivered.

Dean closed the door and scrubbed his hands over his face as he walked around to the driver's side. He felt like crap and still a little…disconnected from himself, like everything was just slightly out of synch. He got into the driver's seat and curled his hands around the familiar wheel like he was learning the feel of it all over again.

"Dean?" Sam watched him carefully. Demonic possession was something he'd hoped his brother would never have to experience. Dean internalized everything to a fault, and Sam knew he was going to have trouble accepting what had happened.

"I'm good, Sam," Dean said quietly and started the car. He spent a moment listening to the engine rumble around him before he pulled away. It galled him that the demonic bastard had been driving his baby for a week. He scowled as he drove, and then his lips quirked in a smile with the memory of Sam's reaction to the demon insulting their car. It quickly faded with the all too visceral memory of feeling his own hands choking the life from his brother immediately after that. He knew his dreams would be haunted with visions of what he had done to Sam for the rest of his life. "We're good."

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The four hour drive did little to make Sam feel better. If anything, he felt worse by the time they pulled up outside the Men of Letters bunker. He didn't remember the withdrawal symptoms hitting him this quickly in the past, but then, pulling the demon from his brother and killing it had taken a lot more effort than it should have as well. His head was still splitting, and he wished Cas could have taken that pain along with everything else.

"Come on, Sam."

Sam jerked his head up in surprise with Dean's voice at his elbow and stared at him. He hadn't even heard his brother get out of the car or come around and open his door, and Dean was looking at him now with thinly-veiled concern. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. Ok."

Dean frowned and watched Sam stand. His movements were stiff and he'd clearly been a little spaced out for a moment. He kept close to his elbow as they went into the bunker, down the iron stairs, and then Sam stopped and stared down the long hall beyond the library. "Sam?"

"Should probably put me downstairs." Sam said it softly.

"Come on." Dean took his arm, mentally discarding that idea and steered him down the hall. He knew his brother was expecting to be tied down in a dark room somewhere alone for hours or days but he just couldn't do it. He couldn't restrain him so soon after watching himself torture Sam.

"Dean, what?" Sam stopped as Dean pushed him into his room. "This won't work, Dean."

"Shut up, Sam." Dean took a look around his brother's room and nodded. "Lucky for you, you have the decorating sense of a monk." He smirked and gave Sam a shove to his bed. "Be easy to take all the potential flying objects outta here. Sit down."

Sam dropped to the side of his bed and only then, once he was sitting somewhere not the car, could he feel the constant tremors running through him. He lowered his head miserably. "Sorry, Dean. I should have found another way."

Dean stopped. He'd been tossing things from Sam's desk into a small box and he sighed. He went and sat next to him. "Sam, there wasn't…not without killing me. You know that. Sure, Cas could'a burnt my eyes out, but I'm kinda partial to them."

Sam was startled into a small laugh, smiled, and nodded. "Yeah."

"You'll get through this again." Dean told him firmly and rested a hand on his shoulder before he stood and went back to clearing the desk. "We both will."

Four hours later, Dean had thrown all his qualms about chick flicks and personal space out the window; all in an effort to avoid restraining Sam again. He sat on Sam's bed, in his brother's now-empty-but-for-the-bed room and leaned against the headboard with Sam's back held tightly to his chest. "Take it easy, Sammy," he soothed, holding Sam's arms firmly down with his own while Sam shook and gasped against him.

Sam shook his head with his eyes tightly closed. The pain rolled through him in waves, taking even his ability to speak as his body rid itself of the last of the poisonous blood and he was mildly concerned; as bad as the pain was, the other symptoms he was used to had yet to manifest. He kept waiting for the delusions to start in earnest, but, other than the occasional glimpse of Lucifer smiling in the corner, they hadn't. Neither had the bursts of telekinesis that had always accompanied detoxing for him. No, the pain was the worst of it…the pain and the memory of nails being driven into his body and flesh stripped from his arm. He could still vividly feel each of those hurts if he thought about them, though the wounds were gone thanks to Castiel.

"Sam." Dean gave him a slight shake when it sounded as though he were going to hyperventilate. He could feel Sam's heart beating frantically through his back. "Dude, slow it down already." Every whimper drove a knife through his heart, every moan of pain was a reminder of just how much he'd hurt his brother. "I gotcha, buddy. It's ok."

The pain eased off yet again, and Sam's body collapsed back into his brother's. "Sorry. Sorry." His head rolled back onto Dean's shoulder, unable to support it himself anymore as he caught his breath and felt the warmth of tears on his cheek that he couldn't stop. "Should have been stronger…should have seen…seen it sooner. Sorry, Dean."

"Dammit, Sam. Shut up." Dean snarled in his ear and kept his tight grip. "You don't get to feel guilty about this."

A weary smile creased Sam's face and he snorted softly. "Then neither…neither do you." He frowned. "I should have seen it…tattoo. Patched you up and…and I missed it. I missed it. Stupid."

"The damn thing's on my chest, Sam." Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who should have damn well noticed. Daily ink check from now on."

Sam snorted again, still breathing heavily and nodded. He rolled his head toward Dean's face. "You know this…what he did to me, that's not…not on you, right?" He cracked his eyes, watching Dean's jaw tighten and scowled. "I mean it, Dean. You always told me Meg…that wasn't on me. Not…not my fault and Luc…" Sam's voice choked off at a flash of that damned face in his peripheral vision and he flinched.

"Easy." Dean felt him jerk and, as he'd used to do when Sam was a child and scared, dropped his chin into all that shaggy, dark hair. "He's not here, Sammy. Just me. You're safe." Sam nodded under his chin and the fact that he didn't pull away told Dean how out of it he was really feeling. He sighed. "I know you're right, ok? I do. I just…you gotta gimme time to…" Dean swallowed hard. "I can't get it outta my head, feeling myself driving those damn nails into you."

"Wasn't you." Sam worked one arm slowly free of his brother's hold to pat his arm. "The thing that hurt me is dead and…I'm not sorry I did it now." The guilt at drinking demon blood had finally lessened under the knowledge that he had saved Dean. That made it worth any amount of discomfort or self-hate for Sam.

"Alright, look. I'll stop beating myself up if you do." Dean said softly, feeling Sam begin to go lax with sleep in his arms. He was lying of course; it would be a long time before he stopped tearing himself up over the whole thing, and he imagined he'd added a few more sleepless nights to his life…and Sam's. His brother didn't need to know that though. "Go to sleep, Sam." He felt Sam's head nod slowly in agreement again and sighed.

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean looked down in surprise. He'd thought Sam was well on his way to being out cold. "What? Dude, do you ever listen to me? Sleep while you can."

Sam smirked and patted his arm again. "So this is like…my chick flick quota for a month, huh?"

Dean chuckled in spite of the situation and the night's events and shook his head. "Try a year, little brother. Maybe two depending on whether or not you drool on me in your sleep." He smiled at Sam's soft snort and sat there holding him as Sam fell asleep, sometimes twitching with the withdrawal. Dean was pleasantly surprised that detoxing this time hadn't meant the nightmare his brother had suffered in the past. For the first time, Dean was actually grateful Sam had ended up doing the trials as it was the only reason he could think of for the change. They had altered something inside his little brother that made it easier. But that thought…that they were changing Sam somehow…that scared him. But that was for another day. They had enough issues right here, right now, that he didn't need to add to the pile. He worked to set the worry aside and tried to trust that Sam would tell him if things started to go bad.

"Right," Dean whispered and rolled his eyes. They were both crap when it came to admitting weakness. Once, Dean would have considered himself the worse of the two when it came to that, but Sam had taken it to whole new levels after the cage, determined that Dean wouldn't see him as anything but capable of watching his back.

"We'll get past this…and the trials, and whatever else is waiting down the road to try and tear us to shreds," Sam said suddenly in a soft voice. As bad as the night had been for him, it was so much worse for Dean, he knew. "We always do. We always will."

Dean smiled in spite of himself; Sam always seemed to know when he was beating himself up. He loosened his grip a little as Sam turned slightly and rested his head on the wall behind the bed. "I believe in you, Sam," he murmured softly. Dean stared up at the ceiling and felt himself start to drift off against his will as his eyes closed, for the moment, letting his demons go, knowing Sam was safe where he belonged.

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_The End. _


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